Kinky pants
by Veelitann
Summary: My name is Jean, and I have got quite a huge crush for years on my roommate, Marco. Everything is fine, I don't have to tell him and I can perfectly deal with it alone. But the problem appears some evening when he sends me that picture of himself by MMS. There's quite a trouble in my boxers, man.
1. Chapter 1

Well. I didn't really know what I should think about it the first time it happened. My cellphone still in hand, I just scrolled down with my thumb on the digital screen, trying to figure what I should say on should definitely NEVER say.

See, I'd just got that MMS. That type of message with a picture and you don't know if your friend mistook when sending it or did it on purpose. Quite embarrassing. You want, you can't. And oh god, why?

My name is Jean. And my friend, yeah the one I've been talking about, is Marco. My roommate.

And at that very moment, I was staring at that picture. The one that Marco had taken of himself in the mirror, a full body picture actually. You'd rather say that there's nothing weird –except the fact that he's sending me some full body picture with no reason maybe, but that's not the point here- BUT IT IS.

I think I blinked a few times before getting myself back together, trying to stop eyeing at…Well, at the boxers he was wearing. Because fuck yeah, it was a fucking picture of Marco in fucking black boxers. AND NOTHING ELSE. And what was that message for, uh?

**[11:00PM] From Marco Polo :**  
><strong>ready 4 my new gf, man!<strong>

I FUCKING DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR UNDERWEARS FOR YOUR NEW GIRL! First time ever. I have to admit that we're pretty close, right. But, Marco isn't the type of person to send picture of himself half naked, especially to…Me.

Don't misunderstand me: he doesn't dislike me or anything. We're something like BEST friends. But, how to say? That's not as if he'd send it to me in the first place. He might have made a small error and did it instead of sending it to his girlfriend.

Yeah, that's it.

…

Wait a sec, he wrote "man", _didn't he_?

I sighed deeply, not sure of how I had to take it. Answering to that wasn't such a big deal (ok it was, to me). And I gave another look at the picture. His genuine smile on his lips, his freckled olive skin, his smile, his dark brown locks falling on his forehead. His smile.

Oh, and his smile.

Did I mention his cute and wonderful smile? I guess not enough for my liking.

Actually, I was much more about to kiss my phone screen than about to answer the message. I swear god I was able to do it. After a few years living in the same apartment as Marco, I had simply got a terrible crush on the guy. Just like that –well, not like that, don't take it that way, just…

Just, I liked him. And more than anything, I didn't really want him to know –he didn't deserve such a horrible fate to acknowledge my feelings toward him, according to me. But still, I liked him so much, that I could appreciate whenever I saw him, talked to him or anything related to him and all those moments that made my heart pounding so fast and so hard in my chest.

I loved that feeling. Being in love with someone had always been something I'd cherished from so far I can remember. The soft shiver when his hand accidentally brushes against yours as you're both grabbing something at the same time. The warm in your chest when he looks at you for any reason –not the one you'd like him to, but well. And how your heart can beat faster and faster just by hearing him breathing when he's a bit to close.

All that kind of things.

Yeah. I like when I feel in love. Especially with him. Actually, I really think I will never tell him my feelings. He's a man who likes girls, who likes protecting them so much –he's the type to cuddle a lot and he's quite overprotective with his girlfriend when he gets one.

I liked that too. Even if it was not addressed to me, I liked it. Maybe I liked him too much? Oh, anyway that wasn't much of a trouble. I knew how to be quiet about that all and wouldn't be a burden.

But even like that, when you know how much I love him, that's quite sure that I cannot simply forget about that message –and yeah, I'm still at it. Holy shit, what the fuck is that after all !?

Mumbling to myself, I tapped on the screen, opening the small writing window with the (always too small for my big hands and too long fingers) digital keyboard. There was still the view of the lower part of the picture viewable above the keyboard but I tried not to give it a shit. Slowly, I began texting him, wondering at the same time what the fuck I could tell him.

**[11:15PM] To Marco Polo : **  
><strong>Y should I care bout ya pants man?<strong>

I admit it : I've read the sentence so many times that I should have at least found some time to make it better with less shortcuts in my words. But that was the least of my problems at that moment, and I let it go like that. At least it would look more natural to read, maybe not too weird.

I liked that hint of anxiety coming up to my throat every time I was waiting for a reply of the guy. That was always as exciting as scary, even for small things of life. Well, not when he was going out on Sundays to go take some bread for breakfast and texted me to know if I wanted something too, not that kind of things of course, I'm not a child anymore. Even if I liked it too.

I cracked an eye when I felt my phone vibrate again, softly. Even if I wasn't sleeping yet, I was quite drowsing, about to fall into some sleep. I was there, lying in my bed made for just barely one person, with my blanket over my head so it would be darker than darker in my own bedroom. In this apartment, even if it wasn't a big one, we at least had each our own room and could get some private space. Turning my face to the light of the screen, I sighed a little, with that slight hope that it would be Marco's answer and not some stupid SMS advertising from my phone operator.

**[11:22PM] From Marco Polo : **  
><strong>ya jealous<strong>

I let out a small chuckle at it. Jealous, really? I guess he was talking about the fact that he was sleeping over at his girlfriend tonight, or rather the fact he actually had someone to sleep at and with. But really, I did not give a shit at that, I'd rather prefer being here in my bed than with someone I don't care about. Or actually, YES I was jealous. Jealous of his girlfriend and the other girls before this one. Marco often changed about his relationships, and they didn't last for long. In about one year, it was the second one. Not so much girls compare with many guys switching much more with girls, but for someone trying to have a serious situation with someone, it was quite a lot.

But Marco was just a man who easily fell in love with a girl, especially if she was nice, cute, sweet and all those things. And so was that new one, with her tiny body shape, her cute and shy smile, her fucking big blue eyes and her blushing cheeks. I sighed, trying not to mind so much about his choice; in fact, he was right and could do whatever he wanted. After all, he didn't owe me anything.

I was still staring at the screen and his two-words SMS when I got how to make him shut up and be in peace for a few moments. He showed me his boxers? Right. I'd do the same.  
>And so, as I couldn't help smirking a little at the –so stupid- idea that popped all of a sudden in my mind, I opened the camera application. Putting the blanket off, I let a hand scrabble about the small bedside lamp until I could put the light on. Sighing (for Fuck's sake, what was I about to do?), I rolled up the edge of my nightshirt, enough to just have the rectangle of my screen focusing on my low waist, plus my boxers and thighs in view. I took a few shots at first, but after a look at it, hum well…It wasn't that funny. And so I did it again, this time playfully adding a small detail: I let my right hand slid a little under the smooth fabric of my boxers –and I have to confess shivering at my own touch, thinking a little about Marco and WHAT THE FUCK I was doing just to tease him a little. There, my first knuckles hidden under the underwear, I took the picture. And damn, I had to admit : it looked even better than the first one with just my boxers alone.<p>

Laughing alone –I'm so lame, oh god-, I joined the picture to the MMS I was sending.

**[11:38PM] To Marco Polo : **  
><strong>mine is better<strong>

After pushing the 'send' button with my thumb, I rolled on my side to put the light off, pulling the blanket back on my body, the shirt back on my belly. It was a little cold in the room, due to the economy we were trying to make with everything related to electricity. And so the heater.

Putting the cellphone beside my pillow with a tired growl, I gave a last look at the screen where there was still the photograph I'd just taken a minute before. And there I froze. _Really_. It wasn't about the cold in the room. It wasn't because of the blanket that became a bit cold before I took it back on my body. Just…How comes I didn't noticed about the bulge in my boxers when I took AND _SENT_ that _FUCKING PICTURE_? When did it happened, by the way? When did my fucking stupid dick grow with excitation when I wasn't even really touching it, and BARELY thinking about Marco by the way? (_Barely_? I'm lying to myself I guess, I was totally on the guy, right.)

Oh. Fucking. God. Marco would laugh so much at me the day after that, if he wasn't answering in the next few seconds.

And the phone vibrated. Fuck my life, I didn't want to look at the SMS and this time I was in such a big hope for a fucking probe about if I liked my shitty phone operator. Well, I guess I would love them if they found a way to erase that MMS right away and make sure that Marco never know about it.

I know I've said that I loved that terrible feeling, when you're waiting for the one you love to answer. Well, I still like that feeling, but how not to worry in moments like this one? Pursing my lips together, I tapped the screen before the small light of it turn off and then I pushed the SMS letter icon where there was that red _'1'_ indicating that I received a new message. Thanks phone, I fucking didn't already know.

Of course it wasn't my operator, as anybody could guess. And with just two words, I immediately knew that my night was dead and so I would be tomorrow. I already could hear him tease me the whole day long about that.

**[11:41PM] From Marco Polo : **  
><strong>holy shit<strong>

Same here, man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks you for reading and/or following this story! 3**

**As I said on AO3, it's sometimes hard to write properly as English isn't my language at all, but I still want to try and improve it! Again, thank you for your support.**

Chapter 2

Do you what sucks when you're on holidays ? When you can't sleep even though you have plenty of time to do it. And, actually, that was one of those days. I just had a few days off, two still remaining, and I was lying on my bed, my blanket off, my legs spread wide on the mattress, same with my arms. My shirt was rolled up my stomach, with the fresh air of morning chilling my skin. Morning sucks. Night sucks. Lack of sleep sucks even more.

I couldn't sleep at all after that fucking last SMS of Marco. '_Holy_ _shit'_, uh? After that, I've tried so hard to forget and sleep and yet I couldn't. I guess it was normal that I didn't get another message : the first one with the picture may have been taken right when he'd taken his clothes off, so it sure was…

Before he bed his girlfriend.

At the thought of Marco _taking_ _care_ of that girl, I almost _chocked_ and hid my head under the soft pillow, growling like some awful bear. And I sighed, loudly. Through the drapes at the window, the light could still come into the room, hitting the bed and hurting my eyes so badly. I barely slept two, maybe three, hours and I wanted to go back into my sleep. So bad.

But I knew what had me opening my eyes. My ears had recognized that sound, the door of our small apartment opening slowly then closing, with as less noise as possible. It was like that every time Marco was coming back from his girlfriends' on the early morning. I knew that he was trying not to awake me. But he always failed at it and I never told him.

I don't know how long I've been waiting in my bed for. I just stayed like that for a moment, remembering little by little the small parts from the night, groaning more and more against myself and my stupidity.

Sometimes, I held my breath and I could hear his footstep on the wood of the floor. He was bare feet already, walking slowly, maybe on the tip of his toes not to make any noise. Some rather normal Sunday morning, even though he didn't sleep in his room. I knew I shouldn't be egoistically sad about it, Marco had his own life, and I got mine.

The smell of coffee started to fill the air. Lightly at first, and I hummed in appreciation. Even if I didn't like black coffee, I still liked that smell that always meant it was breakfast time (at work it was just 'break time', pretty cool but also too short). Also, some other smells came quickly with it. Eggs and bacon, bread. Soon, I could hear and feel my own stomach growling at it in need, and I remembered the poor dinner from the evening. Weeeeell…I was hungry, and it was nothing to say it.

But…

I knew Marco would make fun of me the second he would see me, because of that small share of pictures. On another hand, it was quite stupide: I couldn't hide for my all life in my room.

And that was how I ended up behind my own door, opening it just a little, enough to let an eye look outside. It was full of light and I blinked a little in disagreement. In our small living room, I managed to find his figure, walking slowly, watching TV sometimes as he was standing beside the couch for a few seconds, then giving up on news and walking back to the small circle table we had in the kitchen part of the room.

And finally, I pushed the door completely, letting myself enter the room, following that fucking good smell of coffee and eggs and bacon and anything else he'd done. At the sound of the door and maybe my footstep, he stopped moving around to look at me, and…

Well, I must admit. His smile always caused me heart beating a bit faster than needed. But soon he pursed his lips tightly as he was looking at me. Or rather, he was _fucking_ _staring_ at me. So hard. And concentrate. On my crotch. Fuck you Marco, I'm not…!

Suddenly realizing something, I lowed my eyes down on the same target than Marco and almost gulped. I forgot. How fucking comes I forgot about the fucking fact that every fucking morning my fucking dick had to say '_hello'_ to my fucking waist?! (Okay, I know I should stop saying fucking, but WHAT THE—)

"I knew it!" Marco suddenly said while raising his eyebrows. Oh dear god, STOP STARING AT MY ERECTION !

Immediately, I felt my cheeks burning, even my ears and maybe my whole face. It was a bit late to run back to my room, so I tried to look…Normal. Be normal, Jean. You don't have any pole in your boxers and it doesn't pull at all against you tee-shirt. Not at all.

_Crap_.

"Wha-what?" I managed to say, looking in every direction to find something to save my soul.

He was coming. Closer and closer, and finally Marco was right in front of me. He was holding his mug of hot coffee in a hand, smiling like a sweet devil (yeah, 'cause fuck yes, Marco is terribly sweet, I swear).

"Ah, well, I mean…Hello, pinky princess butterfly!" He added, his smile growing even more.

I blinked, a bit froze. "What the fuck?"

Morning sucks, like I said earlier. But this one even more. Marco showed up a finger and pointed with it to my crotch. Lowering my gaze to follow his direction, I eventually stayed like that for a moment.

Since the beginning, he wasn't eying my cock at all. I guess.

"Man, I couldn't see it well yesterday with your bitchy light," he said with amusement. "But still, how comes you have those…Oh god, those wonderful _fuchsia_ boxers? "

He couldn't help but smile, trying to hold his laughter back and it looked quite hard to him. I guess he didn't even notice my boner on the picture. Better like that, I think. His reaction on that SMS was totally about my…Boxers.

I rolled up the edge of my shirt, just enough to have a better look at my own boxers. Hell yeah, I didn't even noticed which ones I was wearing this time. Actually, those were made of some fuchsia fabric, with a light blue butterflies print. Casual boxers according to me.

"I like that pair," I snorted softly, looking away and quickly setting the bottom of my tee-shirt back in place. My cock was safe, good. _Holy shit no_, that wasn't good at all!

He chuckled a little. "That's crazy! I wouldn't wear it for anything…"

I started pouting a little, making my way to the small table and I sat on a bar stool. "Yeah yeah," I mumbled, pouring some of that back coffee in another mug and adding some milk in it to soften the taste. And sugar. Just in need for some sugar in that thing I was about to drink to stay alive the whole day.

"But actually it look good on you!"

_i FOR FUCK'S SAKE/i_, please Marco don't say things like this _i ANYMORE_. _/i_

I almost spilled my milk coffee on the table, taken by surprise and chocked a little. "Man, stop saying stupid things!" I suffocated.

Laughing hard, he came closer again. "You should see your face, you're so red!" he said. I know, I'm almost dying because of you, moron.

I sighed.

And then, I didn't move a toe anymore, my hands gripping my mug tightly. Marco was in my back. I couldn't see him; if I wanted, I could turn back and do anything, of course. But I knew what was going to happen next. It was one of his habits after all, and I liked it more than anything.

And so, slowly, he leaned on me, pushing a little on my upper back with his chest. His arm passed by my shoulder, his hand reaching for the sugar box to take the smallest cube he could find in it.

I loved that moment of my day. I could feel his body, his weight on me, like that, like it was the most normal thing in the world, like we were a thing.

And I could smell his perfume, his soapy smell. It was sweet, each time it happened, and I sighed with some fake disagreement, with a quick and loud sniff at his sleeve.

"You stink," I said.

As told right before, it wasn't right. But actually despite the fact that he smelt like a god, I knew it wasn't his normal smell. It was his girlfriend's soap and shampoo (I'm pretty sure he did use it, his hair looked so fucking clean and soooooo soft and smooth oh-god-I-want-to-touch-it-right-now). And I fucking preferred his normal smell. We were using the same soap and shampoo. And I quite liked it. Anyway it suited him better than his actual girly soap smell.

He straightened back, blinking with a surprised look. "Really?"

"Yeah. Go take a shower, dirty Bodt!"

I pursed a little my lips, and I knew my face at that moment was the same as a pouting kid. "I'll think about it," he shrugged with a smile. "Mister Pink Butterfly."

"Fuck you."

"Tell it to your right hand, looser!"

I winced a little at the attack. "That's lame, coming from you, Marco."

He giggled softly, and I suddenly felt his hand rubbing my head, messing my bed hair even more than it was already due to my night. "I know, sorry dude." Then he took the second stool, sitting next to me at the table with his own mug still in hand, moving a small spoon in it to mix sugar and coffee together.

I sighed, before taking a gulp of my not-black-anymore coffee, before shrugging. "Had a nice sleepover?" I mumbled.

No need to say that talking so much on morning was such an enormous effort. And so, talking about his girlfriend and their _night together _was even more of an effort.

And of course, I felt a hint of jealousy when that small and shy smile blossomed on his lips as he was obviously thinking about her, thanks to me. _Hello, fucking beautiful you_. Why are you so straight, by the way?

"Yeah, pretty nice," he smiled softly.

I sighed, raising my eyes to the ceiling. Suddenly it looked fucking interesting. "Great."

"Your night?" he continued.

"Short."

"Short jerking off or short night?" he laughed.

I choked with my coffee. Oh, I hated so much those mornings when Marco was back from a sleepover at his girlfriend! He was always making fun of me like this and I couldn't even reply properly.

Marco didn't even know that I was damn _gay_.

And I didn't even know what he would think about it. Not to mention that I would gladly lose my soul for him, no problem.

"Short, that's all," I sighed. "Read a bit too much and couldn't sleep enough after that."

I took his surprised look in the corner of my eye as I was reaching for some bread. I liked soaking it in the morning drink before eating. No need for some butter or marmalade (I couldn't understand people doing such a thing), I just liked the original taste of bread.

"What a wonderful night…"

"You're pitying me or what?"

Marco kind of hesitated. I knew what was his next subject about, and I was already preparing my replies for it.

"We know each other for years," he started. " And uh, how to say…"

"I'm still single?" I laughed gently.

He nodded, unsure about what to say next. I made my best to smile and not make fun of him and his poor face.

"You're worrying a bit too much," I said. "I'm not some virgin or anything, I'm a grown man, dude, and you know, I also have relationships, sometimes. And well, sexual relations, if that's what you asked about."

It wasn't a lie. Even if I liked Marco that much, I knew I couldn't wait after the guy for my whole life. And I wasn't one to forbid myself to have a great time if I could (don't misunderstand me, I'm not a fucking slut jumping on every dick I can get!) So, when he wasn't sleeping at the apartment, I used to go out, looking for some cool bar or nightclub. Seeing friends and having a good time at first, and why not ending the night with some nice guy for the night. But not here. And I always made sure to be back before Marco. Don't ask why, I just didn't want him to know about that all, even if he would have a good reaction and not judge me.

But at the moment, that wasn't the question. Marco was red like some tomato and it was damn cute.

Please-kill-me-now.

"I wonder how you do," he groaned in a low voice. "I've never seen you with someone, except that girl in high school of course…"

"Magic," I laughed.

"Really…"

Marco looked quite disappointed at first, but suddenly something passed on his eyes and he looked again at me. "Do you use to wear that type of boxers?" he suddenly asked.

I blinked, taken off guard. Wait, what? That type of—

And I looked down to my crotch, unsure about the face I should feature. Ok. My boxers again. I shrugged. "Those are just boxers, what does it—"

"Daily?"

Insistent Marco, oh yeah. And I sighed loudly. "Yeah, I do…"

A second. Then another one. I mumbled some "What's that for?" to him as he was still eying my boxers. Please dear, don't look too much at it or you're gonna have a bad surprise _growing_ in it.

"Amaaazing!" he finally purred.

"What?"

Marco waved a little with his hand. "I mean, I love that type of boxers but I wouldn't dare wear one!"

Ok. That was definitely not a normal morning. How should I act normal with the guy I loved so much, almost in front of me and telling me his love for my fucking fuchsia light blue butterflies printed boxers?

I let my shoulders drop a little, and finally shook my head. I was done. "You're impossible…I should remind you that I'm a underwear designer then?"

I still can remember his soft chuckle. "I always forget about it! You got those at work?"

"Na, just some personal shopping."

"You seriously bought them?"

"Of course. They deserved it!"

And before I could even react, his hand was on my tee-shirt, raising the edge of it and putting it in the air to look again at my…Boxers. C'mon Marco, let's do something much funnier then!

Shit.

_Hello erection._ Still here?

"Definitly love them!" he giggled.

Definitly love you.

_Fuck._


	3. Chapter 3

I sighed. Half the day was already gone and I still didn't know what I wanted to do. On Sundays you can't find a lot of open places, so most of the times we used to stay at home and…

Watch a movie. God, how come I didn't think about it earlier?

It's been almost two hours since I'd thrown myself on the sofa, still barely dressed, still quite dirty after my short night and still thinking about Marco and his weird interest for my fucking boxers. And yes, I'm stuck on this subject.

Lying on the couch, I turned on my side and looked for Marco a few seconds (or at least until I could find him coming back from his bedroom). Immediately, I let out a small moan (yeah, on purpose) to catch his attention. And I'd rather admit: this kind of thing works pretty well on Marco. Maybe moans are his thing. Maybe he's the type of guy who's moaning all the way when he—

_STOP. Stop that way of thoughts, Kirshtein. Please stop and go back to reality, would you? _

I only tried not to let my smile go from an ear to another when he glanced at me from his place, and as he was coming closer I just bit a little at my lower lip. We liked to be comfortable when we were in the apartment. So the heaters were all set at the maximum (ok, not really the very maximum but still) and the heat was crazy. I just loved it, going through a hot Sunday in just a tee-shirt and a pair of nice boxers. Yeah nice, and those one would be even nicer just because Marco told me that he liked them. I'm that simple.

"What is it ?"

I heard his soft voice and held back a gulp. Even like that, I could see his face upside down and it was always strange to look at and at the same time it was…Marco-ist.

I eventually smiled at the guy, raising an arm up to the ceiling to try and touch Marco (but thankfully he was too far from me). "Up for a movie?" I asked.

"Oh."

What's with that 'oh'? I didn't really like his uncomfortable face looking at that moment. Marco always made this face when he was about to say or do something that would upset me. And I knew it would be like…A lot.

"What?" I growled despite myself, trying to hold it after (a bit too late, good, Jean). Maybe I knew in advance what he was about to say.

He smiled, in a way I wasn't used him to smile. Or rather, he often smiled like that, soft and everything, just because it was his way of being, but… It was a little different now.

"W-well, I'm going out in a few minutes…" he finally said.

I raised an eyebrow, trying to think about why he would be heading out for. "You are?"

And maybe my acting was a bit too great and I should win an Oscar, because Marco finally softened and relaxed. But he just moved a little to fumble around. I knew he was avoiding me. He always did like that when he was.

"Maaarco?" I insisted stretching a little on the sofa.

_Keep cool, Kirshtein. _

He paused, scratching his nose a little in discomfort. He was smiling a bit nervously.

"Oh, uh, I've a date with Krista this afternoon…"

I immediately froze in my position, arms up my head and my legs straight as the news were crossing my ears and brain. Marco wasn't looking at me, so I winced deeply. I should have guessed. Each time he had a new girlfriend, he would spend as much time with her as possible. Maybe it was normal. Marco was a bit the clingy type of boyfriend.

I would love it so much.

I sighed deeply, not taking his glare as I had already turned my gaze away from him. Slowly and without a word, I lighted the TV on, switched a little from a channel to another and quickly stopped on a movie that I didn't even know the name of.

"Eh, say something, at least…" I heard him say from his place.

At least my opinion was still important to him, I assume. Mumbling a little, I shrugged (and it wasn't something easy to do in this position, I swear).

"Have fun," I only said.

He didn't answer, silent. For a moment, I only could hear him and didn't focus on the movie at all even if I was watching the screen. His footstep sound surrounded me for a moment. _Focus on the TV, Kirshtein_. Ah, it was some horror movie, okay. I didn't even noticed until I saw some stupide and ugly monster appeared. Marco wasn't making a lot of noise, but I could hear him as he was changing his clothes, probably for something better looking, and brushing his teeth quickly.

"I'm leaving, see you."

The last thing I heard was the clap of the door behind Marco. Nice job, Jean, really. I just wanted him to feel a little guilty about the way he acted, not even telling me about his plans for the day. When Marco was single, at least he was spending a lot of time with me.

Only when he was single, though. But he wasn't now, and even if he had never told me her name, I knew that 'Krista' was his girlfriend. Go see her, dumbass.

Finally, I sighed as deeply as I could, my attention back to the movie, and I moved a little, my body curling like a ball on the couch. Sometimes just like that, you could feel reality overwhelming you, and I knew that even if I loved Marco that much, it was a nonsense love. A one-side crush and I was the only one stuck in it.

Ok, I like all those feelings you have when you're in love. But that's only because most of the time, I try not to think about how bad and alone I can feel because of that wonderful feeling. Marco couldn't deal with it, I knew it and I would have to move away in a new apartment, maybe alone, maybe with a new roommate.

You know what? I've been living with Marco for more than eight years already. We met in high school at first and we both were in the boarding school. In the same room. I didn't care a lot about him at first. Marco was quite serious, quiet, and I was busy too much on making friends at school all day long. Once I was in our room, I just was busy working on our homework and didn't give him a lot of attention. But little by little, life made things happen and, hell yeah, I fell for him and his sweetness. No matter how hard I tried to act as straight as possible, it never ended well, even in the only relationship I ever had with a girl. I remember that Marco was even more affected by the fact it was over than I was myself. So I just acted like a depressed guy for a few days, only aiming for some of his affection and comfort. He was nice, but still a little distant, and sometimes shesitantly hugged me when he didn't know what to do else. I might be a little horrible, but I've liked that moment and almost thought about finding another girlfriend until she got rid of me once more. But I never did. Having a girlfriend was a pain in the ass and I was busy with school work and my mind full of Marco.

I didn't even know what to do now, and I caught my cellphone to check my messages. The small icon indicated two new SMS and I pressed my thumb on it to open the first one.  
>My fucking operator. I sighed a little again (I sigh a lot when I don't feel good, 'kay?) and deleted it right away. It was a bit late, I needed those SMS to be my operator's last night, not now. Grumbling at those people I didn't even know, I let the screen switch for the second SMS, and frowned a little. What the fuck?<p>

**[3:04PM] From : Fucking Jeager  
>Fuckin bored<strong>

I didn't really need that guy to pop out from nowhere, especially now. Eren fucking Jeager was actually our neighbor from the floor upstairs, and I can personally say that his room his right above mine. Because of the noise I sometimes can hear on nights.

I rolled my eyes quickly at his SMS, and pressed the screen to open the small keyboard.

**[3:06PM] To : Fucking Jeager  
>Not me<strong>

That's not that I disliked the guy. Ok, I didn't like him a lot, and I fucking didn't care about him. But the fact was that…He also was one of my colleagues. So I couldn't avoid him all the time.

**[3:08PM] From : Fucking Jeager  
>What r ya doin<strong>

I waited for a minute or two, thinking whether I would answer him or not.

**[3:14PM] To : Fucking Jeager  
>tv<strong>

I wasn't really interested by my movie, it was a fact. But that was currently all I was doing, and I couldn't let him know how bored and on the nerves I was. I knew that he would love it too much.

**[3:17PM] From : Fucking Jeager  
>wonderful<strong>

I groaned, and a second SMS came before I could even answer to this one. I had a secret hope that it could be Marco, even though I have to admit that I feared a lot about what could be written in it.

**[3:18PM] From : Fucking Jeager  
>Im alone,come?<strong>

I might have smiled a little at that. Jeager wasn't a guy who liked me that much too, and we both knew about each other's feeling. But sometimes we could get along. For some weird reason, Eren was one of the few people at work who knew that I was gay. I didn't like to bark it out in every places, I've always know that it's quite hard to live when you like the same sex. I've never liked being pointed out or put apart for such a reason as my sexuality.

My own family didn't even know.

I sighed again and turned on my back, raising the cellphone to my eyes while I was writing slowly.

**[3:22PM] To : Fucking Jeager  
>Tv s ok<strong>

This time, he didn't waste time. At least, it was almost keeping my mind away from Marco.

**[3:23PM] From : Fucking Jeager  
>Gonna kick ur ass<strong>

I frowned deeply and hurried an answer even if it was always hard to write properly with those fucking digital screens they invented for new phone generations.

**[3:24PM] To : Fucking Jeager  
>what<strong>

And there, again.

**[3:25PM] From : Fucking Jeager  
>Street fighter<strong>

At that moment, I swear my heart choose to stop thinking so much about Marco. At the idea of playing one of my favorites games ever, and not alone against some computer intelligence, I immediately straightened.

**[3:26PM] To : Fucking Jeager  
>Where n when fuckr<strong>

Above my head, I heard a small noise, like someone tapping on the floor. Jeager was just simply answering the message like that, and I rolled my eyes once more. The meaning was that simple: "Here and now."

Considering the fact I was half naked and couldn't feature myself like that, I jumped in the shower for a quick soap rubbing. Even if it was Eren, there was no way I would show myself that down. A tee-shirt and some baggy trousers later and I was leaving our apartment, heading for the staircase. After a short run in those, jumping the stairs two by two, I reached the dark door on his floor, the one I knew Eren was living behind.

I didn't even knock, and I'm pretty sure I'd seen him start so hard.

"Fucker," I gritted between my teeth.

Sitting on the carpet in the middle of his living room, Eren greeted me with a large grin. The collar of his too large tee-shirt was falling off of his shoulder and he was already holding a joystick.

"Movie's finished?" he said.

"Dunno," was all I managed to say.

I was seriously breathing hard, and for a second I thought something like I shouldn't have run that much just to play with that moron. But then he pressed the button of his Xbox360 and I couldn't help a sigh of appreciation. This game wasn't the best of the saga, but still the graphics and gameplay were incredible.  
>The opening (Jeager let it play entirely) allowed me to get myself together back, and I caught the second joystick in hand.<p>

"Back tomorrow at work?"

Between two tricks, Eren managed to ask it.

"Nope."

My character kicked his with a special trick and I smiled at his pouting face. I was winning.

"How come?"

"Still two days off. I'll be back on Wednesday."

"Fuck."

I shrugged a little and I pressed the buttons devilishly for a special trick I knew he wasn't able to do. "Wait for me, princess!"

"Wha—Cheater! Gayshtein!" he yelled, and his voice sounded like something pretty sweet to me.

'Gayshtein' was his way to name me sometimes. Coming from Eren, it wasn't such a big deal but I wouldn't allow anyone else to call me like that. It would even be insulting. But Eren had that privilege even though he was just a fucking homophobic guy. Sometimes, I mean. He wasn't really that much of a jerk. And hum, well, he was my first (and only) ex-girlfriend's step brother.

After more than an hour playing like big kids (and we were), I felt my phone vibrating in my back pocket as I was sitting on the floor like Eren. I squirmed a little on my ass, and I released my joystick with a hand to catch on the phone. I heard Eren growled next to me.

"Gayshteeeein, gonna win if you don't go back to the play…"

"Wait a sec…" I mumbled.

I unlocked the screen quickly to look at the message that had just arrived, and couldn't help gulping at the name coming first.

Marco.

Of course, my heart suddenly beat faster. I had waited so much for him to text me after he left! (I could have sent him a message first, but no fucking way I would)  
>"Hurry up," I heard Eren sigh. I knew he'd paused the game, and he was currently just…Well, staring at me.<p>

"Yeah yeah…Stop looking at me, that's gross coming from you."

**[5:34PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Im sorry 4 not telling u for today<strong>

I smiled at it. Actually, I knew that he would send me a message like this one. I just didn't know _when_.

I rushed at my keyboard without taking any attention to Eren who was still pouting.

**[5:35PM] To : Marco Polo  
>Np, you cook tonight!<strong>

I put the phone near my thighs, and went back on the game, Eren smiling at my return. It didn't last for so long though, the soft vibrating making my heart beat so fast again and my blood rushing in my veins.

Eren gave me a annoyed look as I was already scrolling my screen down.

"Gayshtein…" he growled deeply.

"Shut up…"

**[5:38PM] From : Marco Polo  
>At krista s tonight<strong>

Wait. Wait wait wait. I paused, paled, and stared at my screen for a moment, at some point that Eren might have worried as he was asking "Uh, you're ok?"

I swallowed slowly. "Y-yeah…"

I just touched some letters on the screen. I couldn't help but feel replaced by another girl, once more. It would always be like that, and I fucking knew it already.

**[5:39 PM] To : Marco Polo  
>Fuck you<strong>

I wanted to throw my phone across the room, but now cellphones are pretty expensive. So I just put it back on the carpet, a little farther than before. Soon, it vibrated again. I neglected it, under Eren's surprised look.

"Gayshtein?"

"Movie night, man," I said. "Be prepared."

"What if I don't agree?" he groaned rolling his eyes.

"I know you want, they're diffusing the whole Terminator saga tonight."

"Ok, You win."

I had planned a night with Marco watching the four movies. I knew Marco liked that saga. And instead of all that, I was here in Eren's living room, playing video games because we were both alone and fucking bored and yet we couldn't stand each other. About to spend the whole night together on those fucking movies.

I let go on the joystick, watching it fell on the carpet (just a few centimeters, and it was quite soft) with a deep sigh. I just felt stupid. So stupid for always being after Marco. What the fuck was I even waiting for?

I rubbed a hand on my face, moaning a little.

"Hey…" I heard.

I shrugged. I felt bad. So bad.

"Looks like you're gonna, uh…"

"What, Jeager? "

"Eeeeh…Cry?"

"Fuck you too."

I rubbed my eyes. The fucker was right. And it was going to be a fucking long night.


	4. Chapter 4

_I admit that I'm not a lot active on ffnet these days, actually for everything in english, I'm much more on Archive of our own. _

_But I'll still publish here nonetheless ;)_

**Chapter 4**

I cried for a few moments, and I swear to God that Eren didn't even dare say something. Indeed, he had nothing to say, really. He kept staring at the screen where our Street Fighters characters were squirming in place as we'd finished the last fight (or rather, he'd finished it alone while I was unable to use my joystick and fucking kicked my ass).  
>He'd actually tried to say something at first, but really, it was better that he shut up (which is what I told him to do right away), and in the highest degree of empathy he'd ever shown, he patted my shoulder. I'm pretty sure that he looked uncomfortable with the situation. It took a few really long minutes to regain my composure. My eyes were burning like hell as I wasn't used to crying.<p>

In these moments of distress, I'm usually alone in my room and they've never lasted for long. Less than a minute I guess, I've never really looked at the time as that was the least of my problems. But this time, I didn't know when I would stop crying like a baby, what's more in a place I'd never been before.

An hour later, we had moved a little, sitting ourselves on the small couch on opposite sides. The movie had been playing for a few moments already."

"Crackers, please."

I turned my eyes to Eren, his body as limp as mine on the couch as we stared at the TV screen watching the Terminator movie marathon.  
>I have to admit that it was quite a weird situation. Being at Eren's and talking casually, watching a movie when our last casual talk was…with our fists, right before my holidays. But I guess it was better than being alone in my room, craving for a straight Marco and dying because of his girlfriend's existence, hating myself because I couldn't help all of those things.<p>

"No way," I growled, putting the bowl full of crackers out of reach for the guy.

"I fucking said 'please', Gayschtein!"

"I fucking don't care, fucker!"

I gave him a glance from the corner of my eye, and let a smirk cross my face. Eren pursed his lips a little, his eyes lighting up in a quick anger. I liked these moments, when I knew that I was the reason for him getting that pissed off. Eren was sometimes easy to understand. Or rather, he was all the time. And it was funny.

I was giggling, not letting go of the bowl of crackers I had put by my side on the couch, and looked back to the screen where Schwarzenegger had appeared completely naked. I loved muscled men but well, not that much, and I let my mind linger a little on the body, trying to modelize it the way I wished it to be. At least until I felt something heavy crawling on my knees.

A bit surprised, I looked down at Eren with a very deep scowl. "What're ya doin'?" I mumbled.

"Taking crackers?" he hissed, stretching his arm toward the bowl. And actually, he already had his chest and belly on my knees.

I growled with another smirk, grabbing the crackers again and lifting it so high that he couldn't reach it on time. The second after, he was almost crawling up my chest, his face reaching the same height as mine with his hand supported on my thigh. I gulped loudly despite myself at his weight on me like that. Couldn't help it really. Even if it was Eren, it still was something I liked a lot, being overlooked as if I wasn't strong enough (and not feeling strong enough) to take the other body off. Being _embraced_, being _under _the other with my mind and body all under _the control of someone else._

_Hum hum_.

Well.

I pursed my lips together firmly when he glared darkly at me, frowning at a weird noise I'd just made under his motions and I avoided his gaze, going back to the TV.

"What was that?" he growled.

"Nothing."

"Gross! Go in a fucking fag night club if you want a cock in your ass!"

Agitated, I shook the bowl a little above my head for him to focus back on it, and managed to chuckle a little. He squirmed a bit _on me_, still trying to get the crackers.

"You motherfu—"

His groaning voice got cut out at that moment by the sound of the door, the handle turning with the keys jingling on the other side. When it opened, a small figure appeared and soon I could discern the huge headphones around a neck, and the dark trench coat that was definitely too big for the body. The sleeves were falling on the small hands (I assumed they were small, I just barely could see the tip of his fingers).

""What are you doing, Eren?" asked the stranger as he was walking inside.

I think I heard an amused tone in his voice. It wasn't a deep, hoarse voice or anything. Just a clear and young one. And once we could see his face, I saw Eren's roommate for the first time in my whole life.

Eren had frozen on me and I could feel his tense body, his arm still stretched up to the bowl I hadn't put back on the arm of the couch yet. There were just his eyes, turned to the young man who was already standing by our side, a hand on his waist.

He was bald. First thing I could say, really. I think he'd shaved his head, I could see the short cut of hair still present on his head and probably growing up slowly.

"C-c-connie! You're here already?"

I almost heard Eren gulping when he talked. Ah yeah, I knew that name, Eren mentioned the guy once or twice for reasons.

I lifted up a hand to greet Connie, smiling. "Hi there, I'm the neighbor!"

"Hi," he simply answered, then looked back to Eren and snorted. "Man, can't believe you're actually doing it with the _'neighbor' _on the couch!"

Due to Eren's suddenly red face he was only realizing the whole situation at that moment. I couldn't help it and let out a chuckle, putting the bowl of crackers down on the couch.  
>I think I already mentioned Eren can be a fucking homophobe sometimes, but for some reason, the fact that he was living with a guy like Connie looked quite incredible to me. I mean I had both of them in my sight right at that moment, and if Eren was still Eren, Connie was with no doubt…<em>Fucking gay<em>. God, his straight trousers were so fucking tight that they almost looked like leggings, and I'm pretty sure he could be wearing a fucking STRING across his ass instead of boxers. There wasn't any trace of the line determined by the hem of any boxers under his trousers.

None.

And I had had enough partners, each of them so different, to understand what type of underwear he had on right now. But I could bet that Eren didn't know that part about his roommate. I don't even think he was aware about his tendencies (I could almost feel it even if the guy was manly enough and didn't show it so much. There was something, I guess).

Poor guy.

At that moment, my phone vibrated. Again. Actually, it had been for the whole evening, from the moment I had sent my last SMS to Marco. But after that, I totally stopped looking at the screen, sometimes tried to kick it away and finally I had hidden it under a small pillow thrown on the carpet. We could still hear it when the sound of the TV wasn't high enough on a few scenes.

"Well, nice to meet you, neighbor, but I'm going to sleep now…" Connie yawned widely, almost forgetting to put a hand before his mouth, then waved at us. "Night night…Don't sleep too late Eren, you're working tomorrow!" he added, his hand waving at Eren who had jumped off my knees.

"I'm not a kid, dumbass!" he growled deeply, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Yeah yeah, brush your teeth before you go."

The sound of the door shutting closed behind Connie finished his sentence, and we stayed like that for a moment, Eren mumbling a little to himself. I think he was just pouting. There was only the TV on, the sound of explosions coming from the screen, the vibrating of my cellphone on the carpet, and the dirty noise of the crackers in Eren mouth. The fucker finally took them, taking advantage of the fact that I had a lack of attention for a moment.

"You're noisy," I sighed.

"Not as much as you," he motioned with his chin to the floor, specifically the pillow. "Not answering?"

"Not now," I raised my eyes to the white ceiling. I still didn't feel ready to deal with the situation I had put myself into.

"It looks serious," he finally said.

Due to the amount of vibrations, it might be a call. A few calls, even. I didn't know what the time it was, maybe around midnight, maybe even later. It wasn't even the end of the second movie. I sighed a little, my cheek on my fist as I put an elbow on the arm of the couch by my side.

"Not really…" I hesitated.

I leaned back deeper into the couch. "First time I've met your roommate," I added with a glance to Eren. He didn't react a lot, shrugging.

""He doesn't have the same schedule as us, that's all. Night shifts most of the time."

"Oh. But he looks cool anyway."

I'm pretty sure I saw Eren frown a little at it. Then he pursed his lips together a bit.

"He was too quiet," he finally said. "Guess he doesn't feel good tonight."

"Oh."

After that, we didn't talk anymore. Or at least not a lot. The bowl of crackers had finally been placed between us, and I think we remained focused on the movies for a long moment. I remember crying a little at some scenes but in silence. Don't laugh, I'm pretty emotive as a guy. Don't laugh, I'm a pretty emotional guy. I saw Eren turn his gaze to me during one of those moments, but he didn't say anything, acting like he didn't see what was happening.

Better like that.

As I said, it was a weird night. At some point, right at the beginning of the fourth movie, Eren finally stood up, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. "Oh fuck, it hurts," he mumbled.

"Gonna sleep?" I asked.

I was so limp on the couch that my ass was almost off the couch, my feet farther and farther from the edge and slipping on the carpet.

He nodded. "Yeah. You can use the couch for the night if you want." He stretched up, his tee shirt almost showing off his belly. His sweat pants weren't something sexy but still, it allowed the view on his boxers waistband. White.

"Thanks," I simply said.

"Tomorrow morning, if you go back home before Connie wakes up, take the key next to the door. You can send it back in by the crack under, it's high enough."

"Hum, okay…"

He left like that, yawning like hell and leaving me alone in their living room. The place looked a lot like ours, they just didn't set their furniture the same way as us.  
>I guess the heater were still on, even for the night. It was fucking hot here, but it wasn't a bad thing. Lying on the couch as I was alone here, I kept watching the movie for a moment. I'd seen it a couple of times already but it was still a good one. I wasn't a huge fan of the Terminator saga, but I still liked it enough, maybe because Marco loved it so much.<p>

I sighed deeply, taking advantage of the fact that I was alone. Alone, for real. And I fucking _felt _alone. The fact that I reacted so easily to Eren earlier when he was on me left me quite unsure about what I should do. Well, not talking about Eren himself. But more generally.

Maybe I should finally try to find someone. I mean, not just for the night. I was already 26, still single, not even having a lot of fun (or not as much as I could have had until now, at least). I took note to think about it on time, then went back to Terminator, starting at another explosion I'd forgotten about.

I don't know when I fell asleep, actually. I don't even remember watching until the end of the movie, or turning the TV off. It was still dark in the room when some noises woke me up softly, and I cracked an eye open with a growl. The figure of Eren walking on the carpet made me blink a little until I reminded myself where I was and I let out a sigh, closing my eyes again.

"What's with those fucking boxers …" I heard nonetheless from the guy.

I don't even remember when the fuck I took my trousers off to sleep more comfortably. But I did actually, and it took me a few seconds to remember what could be weird about my boxers.

Oh fuck.

Panda.

"F'ck you Jeager…" I hissed in my half asleep state.

I woke up again a bit later, this time because of the sound of the door clacking behind Eren. The dawn had barely started enlightening the living room through the giant window, but it kept me awaken this time. The dawn had barely started lightening the living room through the giant window, but it kept me awake this time. My phone wasn't vibrating, it had stopped sometime during the night when I was still watching TV.

Slowly, I crawled off the couch, until I reached the small pillow on the floor and took my phone. I lay back on the couch, turning on my side and…Pressed the small button of the phone, the screen turning on, and I rubbed softly to unlock it.

I shivered a little.

I knew that it vibrated a lot during the end of the afternoon, then the evening, and finally the first part of the night. But I didn't think it would have been that much.  
>On the small icon indicating the SMS box, there was the red number of unread messages and I gulped at the idea of reading all of them.<p>

27 new messages.

I was already feeling my heart beat a little more, my hand going shaky, and I pressed my thumb on the icon. There I could see who sent me those messages.  
>Marco. Marco. Marco. Marco everywhere.<p>

Before I noticed, I was holding my breath, my finger already on the first message that had been sent by the end of the day before.

**[5:41 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>That's not nice<strong>

Yeah, my 'fuck you' wasn't meant to be nice, Marco. But then, I had never answered.

**[6:15 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>What r u doin?<strong>

I sighed.

**[6:32 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Pouting?<strong>

**[6:58 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>hey<strong>

**[7:35 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Jean?<strong>

Oh god.

**[7:43 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Everything ok?<strong>

**[7:52 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>fuck<strong>

I chuckled darkly despite myself I couldn't help it, it wasn't really his style to write something like that.

**[7:58 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Please answer<strong>

**[8:06 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Is it my fault?<strong>

I sniffed a little, worrying at my lower lip.

**[8:12 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Im sorry<strong>

**[8:16 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>please<strong>

**[8:34 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>…<strong>

**[8:47 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>jean<strong>

**[9:01 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>answer<strong>

**[9:17 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Please jean<strong>

**[9:40 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Im going home<strong>

Oh fuck it already.

**[10:02 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Hope ur ok<strong>

**[10:44 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Im home<strong>

**[10:45 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Where the fck r u<strong>

**[10:56 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Where r u<strong>

**[11:03 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>sorry<strong>

**[11:14 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>please<strong>

**[11:29 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Forgive me please<strong>

I swallowed thickly. For some reason, it was quite hard to go on. I wanted to read all those messages. And at the same time, I felt a huge fear each time I was swiping the screen aside to the next SMS. I could feel my heart about to explode sometimes. And the second after I felt down, imagining the moment Marco had written those messages I couldn't even imagine what he was thinking about in those moments.

**[11:43 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Im alone at home<strong>

**[11:48 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Tell me <strong>

**[11:54 PM] From : Marco Polo  
>Srsly jean tell me whats going on<strong>

There was one left. The last one, and in the main menu of the message box, right beside Marco's name, I could already see a part of his SMS.

I knew it would throw away all my thoughts from tonight, especially about giving up on him and finding someone else to like. Because I already knew that I couldn't like anyone as much as Marco. It wasn't even feasible, and I could remember all those moments in the past years when I had tried to get over all those feelings.

**[12:00 AM] From : Marco Polo  
>Don't leave me<strong>

I might be the weakest guy ever, but as usual I let my thumb push the 'answer back' icon. I didn't know if I had to be ashamed for not answering all of his messages, and by the way most of them were quite insistent, as for trying to get my attention (and he did, I'd looked at my phone whenever it vibrated).

I was feeling dumped, as if I had been filled with a feeling I shouldn't have. Which was the case. With those words, Marco was still giving me some hope to hang on to.  
>Unfair.<p>

**[7:03 AM] To : Marco Polo  
>Im at eren's<strong>

I wanted to run back home, yell at him for being so blind all those years and yet I couldn't do it. I wanted to cry, again and again. I wanted to feel his large hand rubbing my hair, trying to comfort me.

I'm sorry Marco.

I love you. A little too much.

But I'm pretty sure you don't need me…


	5. Chapter 5

_Here we are!_

_I've started Marco's POV "Craving for your boxers" which is Marco's point of view for Kinky Pants ;3 So go check for it if you like the story !_

**Chapter 5**

I barely remember throwing my phone to the carpet and falling asleep again, but I did anyway. Sighing and curling on the couch again, I don't even know how I managed to sleep again, even if I didn't feel that tired anymore. But in the end, I was awoken again, half by the light and half by the sound of coffee pouring into a cup or something. My eyelids were a little stuck together and I turned on my side, just enough to discover a thin blanket spread over me. Eren was gone long ago, Marco wasn't living here, in this apartment, and so it didn't take me so long to understand that i_maybe_/i it was Eren's roommate who covered me like that.

The curtains were still closed, attenuating the daylight. I glanced to my phone, frowning at the distance between it and me, as I couldn't look at the time it was. Late, for sure, if there was already so much light outside (even like that, I could assume it was sunny due to the amount of light entering through the curtains).

"Hi you, good night?"

I blenched a little at the unusual voice and raised my eyes up to the thin figure of Connie. The guy was bustling in the kitchenette, a few meters away from me, and I could notice two cups of coffee waiting on the bar table. His, I assumed, and, well, maybe mine. I wasn't sure.

His big brown eyes were sometimes glancing at me and I finally nodded, before rubbing a little my eyes with my forefinger and my thumb. A small chuckle answered at that motion, and I could hear the soft sound of the cup pushed on the smooth surface of the table.

"Coffee?" he offered softly.

"Uh, thanks…"

Mumbling a little, I managed to get on my feet and joined the guy, crashing on a high stool. There were only two of these, probably one for Connie and the other for Eren. It was still a little weird to imagine my colleague living with that shorty, but still it was the reality and it was right in front of me.

The drink was hot, of course, and I winced a little at the idea of drinking this as I couldn't even stand the bitter taste and smell of coffee. Almost immediately, a bottle of milk appeared in my vision and I couldn't help but open my eyes wide at Connie who was smiling a little at me.

Well.

Normal, I guess?

"I've been told that you can't drink black coffee," he said. "I'm quite the same as you."

I blinked a few times, unsure of what I should think. "Oh, hum…I…But…How?"

He shrugged a little, his elbow on the table and his chin resting on his palm. When I was walking toward the table, I had the time to notice that he was too short and his feet didn't even reach the floor.

"Eren told me once," he snorted softly.

"What, you knew who I was?"

He shrugged a little. "Well, I wasn't sure, but he confirmed before leaving, he left a note under my door."

"Oh."

Somehow, I didn't know how to react at that. Eren had never been nice with me, and so I had. Sighing, I shook my head a little, before hearing my phone vibrating softly on the carpet. Oh god, that damn phone. I wanted to forget about it so bad.

"I just thought you both couldn't stand each other," Connie added with a smile, "and there I find you two watching movies together…Or rather, a little more than that?"

"Oh god, no way," I grumble under his soft laughter.

I slid down off the stood and made my way to the phone that was now silent and calm. As I was then going back to my seat, I unlocked the screen, frowning a little while sitting on my high stool (and I swear god that MY feet still reached the floor, at least the tip of my toes).

Another SMS from Marco was noticed as unread, and I briefly took an eye at it. And there I froze a little, under Connie's curious gaze.

**b[10:15 AM] From : Marco Polo**

**WTF DON'T MOVE IM COMING DON'T FIGHT/b**

…What?

It took me a whole minute, staring at my screen, to replace the pieces of the puzzle. Finally, scrolling up my screen, I found my previous SMS and understood. I was at Eren's and it might not be the best idea to Marco: the last time he saw us together, we were literally talking with our fists and he had to stop and separate us.

By force. Yeah, like that, with his hands, with his strong arms and dear, how strong was he! I might have not tell about it, but Marco's body was all about muscles. A perfectly shaped body, born from years of work out at the gym. Marco was actually one of the trainers in a sports complex, sometimes even working as a personal trainer, but most of the time his job held him at the main building.

Sighing, I bit a little at my lips and Connie was glancing at me as I was sitting back to the table.

Somehow, I felt like I could hear footstep outside, but it was mostly my imagination, highly developed when it came to Marco. It was more than ten o'clock and he may be working right now.

"Mh, but I didn't know you were one of our neighbors," Connie finally said, not even trying no ask about the message I had just received.

I stared at him pouring a large amount of milk in his coffee (much more milk in the mug than coffee itself), and growled a little. "I guess that we don't really want to remember about that…"

"Except tonight?"

"Sorry for using the couch."

He just softly chuckled, and I remembered how Connie was when he came back from work in the middle of the night. If at that moment he was dressed in a way that couldn't hide his tendencies (even now, I could i_feel/i_ it), he was now wearing something quite weird. A large tee-shirt, something like XXXXL size and I sear that I've never seen that type of over large size before and it was quite the same for his boxers. So large and long that it almost reached the middle of his thighs. And it barely passed the edge of the tee-shirt.

"You, hum…Are those clothes your boyfriend's?" I tried.

And if he's not gay, I'm a fucking queen.

But he blushed a little right away, and if at first I thought I was right, he finally mumbled a low "Not really…" It wasn't really one of the answers I was expecting (but he didn't say anything about not being gay) and so I blinked despite myself, giving him some incredulous look. I was getting a little too curious maybe and I knew it, so I didn't dare ask more. After all, I didn't know Connie at all and he was kind enough to make me some coffee. I wouldn't insist.

"S'rry."

"Oh, well, it's o—"

A violent sound cut him up in his sentence, making both us blench on our stools, and it took us a second to analyze what had happened.

"Jean, you're here!?"

Oh god. That voice. I might have paled a little, I could feel the blood rush out of my face as I could put a name on that damn voice. Clear and hoarse at the same time, the type of voice I could beg to say my name (or actually, say anything as long as it's still talking to me).

Marco's voice, of course. What else?

And in fact, Marco had entered the place without even knocking, warning or anything, visibly opening the door so violently that we first thought he had blown it off its hinges. But it was just Marco, his hair messy (what?), still wearing his pajama outfit (why the fuck was he always wearing something black? Even if he did look good in it…), and all breathy from running in the stairs.

Breathy? God, what a joke, Marco wouldn't run in the staircase just to make sure that I wasn't dying under Eren's fists!

But he did, obviously, and I didn't really know what to say.

"Oh, hello Marco!"

i_I SWEAR IT WASN'T ME_./i Connie was the first one to greet Marco with a toothy smile and there again I felt…Lost. I hate mornings, it sucks when your brain isn't working well enough yet. But at least I could notice Marco blinking at us, quite perplex and looking troubled, maybe because of his i_wonderful_ /ientrance.

"Ah, uh…Hello, eeeer…"

He hesitated, his gaze visibly going from Connie to me and the reverse. I could tell he didn't feel at ease at that moment and it made sense after all.

"I'm Connie," helped Eren's roommate with a smile.

"You know Marco?" I asked lowering my voice even if it's was useless. Marco could hear me nonetheless.

"He's a colleague's boyfriend," Marco answered before Connie. He was walking toward us, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm with an apologizing look. "Sorry for the door, even if I don't think I broke it…" he added.

"Ex-boyfriend," Connie mumbled, his nose suddenly in his drink. "It's ok for the door, but please knock next time."

His face had faded right away and I thought that I was somehow understanding something all of a sudden, like his way of answering to my question about his boyfriend. I just felt a little more stupid. So I lifted my eyes up to Marco, tightening my fingers around my hot cup. It was cooling, little by little.

"What's happening?" I asked to change the subject.

Right Kirschtein, now act as if you didn't read his SMS, that's the best fucking bad thing to do with him, even if you know he's clever as hell. But Marco still looked a little troubled, kind of staring at me at the moment. He cleared his throat a little, his eyes lowing slowly.

"Did you…Did you spend the night here?" he finally let out with a low voice.

I nodded (I'm not sure if I was convincing enough even if it was the truth). Something was quite weird, and somewhere in my mind I was comparing his behavior to a jealous husband. Jealousy toward Eren, I could imagine, and the idea made me smile despite myself again. I really should learn self-control someday, really. Especially because of both looks I earned by smiling so stupidly at Marco's question.

And finally, he let out a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead with his the back of his hand.

"God, I thought you were in trouble," he murmured.

He was now close enough for me to hear him pretty well, even with his voice tone so low. I shrugged a little before taking the small bottle of milk and pouring some in the cup.

But his hand suddenly on my shoulder made me start pretty hard, and I didn't have the time to prepare myself before blushing a little. His touch had always made me feel kind of shaky, and of course Marco didn't touch me very often. In front of me, Connie was staring at us with curiosity and I felt like that short guy had guessed something pretty embarrassing. Maybe because of his silence and the way he was smiling-not-smiling.

"Well guys," he stood up, sliding off his high stool with a grin. "You both should go back home, I've a lot of things to do today."

"Ah yeah, you have a late shift today?"

He shrugged a little, taking a gulp of his coffee and then laughed a little at us as I was moving from the stool again. "Yeah. It's gonna be a long day. I'm not going to the gym today, tell Reiner."

"Okay."

"But I guess you're not going either," Connie added with a glance at Marco and his night outfit. It's been a while since the last time I saw Marco blushing like that and I couldn't help but chuckle a little, earning a dark gaze.

"Don't laugh," Marco mumbled as I was going to the couch, taking my clothes and putting my trousers on.

"I don't, I don't."

Marco was in my back when I was dressing up, but I still could feel his gaze on me and it was quite disturbing. Not that I disliked it, but after such a evening and night, I still couldn't get what was going on right now. I didn't even get why the fuck Marco had gone back to our apartment instead of spending his whole night with Krista.

I followed him with a goodbye to Connie before closing the door behind us and let him lead to the apartment in silence.

I couldn't get any of this, really, and somehow I hoped that Marco would say something. Or I would think about many reasons and I knew that some of them wouldn't be the great ones. I knew that Marco didn't really care about the fact that I was fucking alone and sad and craving for some company as he left me and—

"I'm sorry."

There was only the sound, brief and soft, of the door closing. Marco's back was facing me, his shoulders a little low. His voice just came out like that, without any warnings and once more I felt like I couldn't find anything proper to say.

He sighed, as I was heading to the couch to sit on an arm of it. "I know I should have told you earlier about yesterday, but…"

"I don't care."

Just before he could turn to me, face me, look at me or anything, I let myself fall on my back on the couch, my knees still up on the arm. I didn't want to see his expression as I knew how he would look like.

"You know, Jean, sometimes I don't understand you."

"Yeah, I know."

Or rather, you never understood, Marco. I've always managed you not to know about a half of my life even if we live together.

I heard him walking a little. There was then the sound of his thumb pressing a button on his phone, then I guess he was swiping the smooth screen (that was the disadvantage with today's cellphone, you couldn't know what people were doing just by the sound of the touches).

"You're mean," he added.

"You already told me tonight, remember?"

If I closed my eyes, I could almost see all of his messages from last night engraved on my eyelids.

"Y-yeah," he murmured.

He took a stool, sitting the same way as me when I was at Connie's and putting his phone on the small circular table.

"You weren't answering," he continued.

It was a reproach in his voice. I swallowed thickly, thanking myself for hiding on the couch.

"Did you really need me to?" I tried.

Sometimes, it was hard not to tell him how I really felt. Especially times when he was acting like that, like he was really concerned by how I was, what I was doing and all those things. I felt bad, kind of sick sometimes, when we were starting those subjects.

He remained silent a moment.

"You left your girlfriend just because I wasn't answering? How cute, she must have enjoyed her evening," I added.

There was a bitter taste behind my tongue, and somehow I doubted that it was due to the coffee.

"You're really…"

At first, he didn't finish his sentence. But even just those words in this unfinished sentence meant everything and I took it violently, losing myself in some bad mind statement and I didn't even took care of his footstep. Eyes closed, humming softly to calm down, I truly didn't want to care about what he was doing at the moment.

But I have to admit: I started quite a lot when I felt a hand grabbing mine and I suddenly opened my eyes, jumping immediately in two dark brown irises.

"Holy sh—"

"You…You weren't home and didn't answer all night long…" He suddenly said. His voice sounded shaky, and at that moment I didn't want to throw something bad at him like I was doing since we were back at the apartment. "I was worrying, Jean!"

His face couldn't lie: it was Marco after all. Honest and all that stuff.

"Plus…You were at Eren's, how could you think it was no big deal, really…"

He'd lowed his gaze, and I still don't know what the fuck took me. Maybe it was because of his hand tightening on mine so firmly, with so much strength. Maybe it was because of his pitiful looks.

Maybe because of the sudden proximity.

I'm still not sure.

But anyway, I raised my upper body on an elbow, sliding my second arm around his shoulders, my hand pushing a little on the back of his head to force his face against my shoulder. I hear him yelp a little with surprise but well, uh…

He didn't released my hand, at least, and I could feel my heart beating so hard in my chest that I was pretty sure he would hear it. He couldn't miss it, no way.

"I'm sorry," I breathed. "I'm really sorry."

An inch or two from my mouth, it was his ear, colored with a deep shade of pink. His breath tickled a little on my skin beside my collar.

It was weird to have his large, muscled shoulders under my arm like that, with my fingers gripping as much as possible on his dark night tee-shirt.

But thankfully, I couldn't see his face.

I'm pretty sure I would have kissed him.


End file.
